Welcome back to Stile Project's reader mail section, where you, loyal reader, get to share your pearls of wisdom. Just make sure to wash your hands after. If you have something to contribute, feel free to e-mail me.

Older reader mail: 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33 / 34 / 35 / 36 / 37

• From: ethan ethan [spiderbkwik@hotmail.com]
• Subject: funny fuckin' cartoon

Great fuckin' site, man. You're what the internet was made for. Check out this site if you like funny adult cartoons.

Yeah, that is a fucking hilarious 'toon!

• From: Rex [rizzex@hotmail.com]
• Subject: You should write a book

I've been reading your site for a long time and your writing has gotten so much better. You should consider writing a biography or something about yourself and the internet in general. Im sure mad peeps would buy it. Youve already got a pretty big audience.

My book would be incredibly fucking boring. It'd go something like this: Hi, I'm Stile. I spent six years in high school and went bald at 19. I haven't gotten laid in six years and I spend every waking moment in front of my computer. I run a website where I post images and video clips of the most foul things that humanity has ever created. I really need to brush my teeth and take a shower. Did I mention that I haven't had sex in six years? I think about killing myself every day. The end.

How's that for a suspensful novel? There. I just saved you some money you cunt.

• From: skrog@skrog.net
• Subject: bruce!

yo dude i was at this evil dead convention and got some stile sux pics with the man himself! bruce campbell! and hitler!

• From: Steve [sbelzer1009@msn.com]
• Subject: A small victory in the war FOR Marijuana

So my friend Paul and I have been friends since high school- we both just graduated from college. Paul's parents are a good, law-abiding, suburban Lutheran couple. Recently, Paul's mother had told him that she was interested in trying pot. Paul told me, and I said I was very interested in smoking her up. So I went over there last night with my bong and put the offer on the table. She was reluctant because she had not yet discussed it with Paul's father- so Paul and I invited him to join us.

It took very little convincing- Paul: "Hey dad, do you want to smoke some marijuana?" Paul's dad: "You got any?" Me: "I do." Paul's dad: "Sure, why not?" So I packed up the bong, and gave them an informative lecture on marijuana as I did. Reefer 101. So I showed them how to work the bong and we passed it around. Then I packed it again and we repeated. I must say, it was a surreal experience- sitting there in their living room, surrounded by family photos and Christian paraphernalia smoking the sweet, sweet cheeba. I felt victorious.

The ONDCP (Office for National Drug Control Policy) spends millions each year trying unsuccessfully to scare Americans away from pot. With less than $10 worth of bud, I convinced two suburban parents that marijuana is in fact a good thing. I only wish I could have taken pictures, but that was out of the question. Damn, I've wreaked havoc on that family. I was pretty much responsible for Paul rejecting much of the doctrine of his church back in high school, too. Victory in the war for marijuana is close at hand- rejoice!

• From: Drush4u@aol.com
• Subject: I love Xmas and try to make the best of it.

Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. Then I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance.

As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand! Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong.

He told me his sad story.

He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped off by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an
older boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.

"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.

The boy said, "I did."

"And nobody came to help you?" I wondered.

The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.

"How loudly did you scream?" I inquired.

The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"

I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help. So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.

• From: Luis Montalvo II [lm_hexus@hotmail.com]
• Subject: I love hot mansex!

Things are always this way. There is no question of that.

But one of my associates put it into perspective for me. He was born in one of those countries where the children get up and eat sand for breakfast, and the only showers they took came from the rain water falling from the eaves of shacks.

He pointed out that this is the cycle of civilization. An empire rises to posterity at the expense of others, has thier fun, dies out and is replaced by another. Our technology has only expanded the scope and impact of this fact. His point? He fought to get here because here liked the opportunity to take care of the only things that matter to him; survival and family. This place was the ideal in standerds even if it come at the cost of submission to others.

It is our Luxury to be uncontent with our lives, because others dont have even that. The mental slavery that comes with this life, the obsession with
money, the hypocrital psedo-religious comercail holidays, and even our education is all self imposed. They are not needed. A person could free himself from all these if he desired so. I am not endorsing america. Im do not approve of the commercial-intrests wars they want to start overseas. I do not celibrate holidays - i despise the heard mentality. But most of all i despise people's apathetic despotic attiude to thier existance.

Changes CAN be made in the world. You just have to be willing to pay the price. How far are you willing to go? Would you give your life? Would you
take others? If not, then do not bemoan your lack of options. Heaven can be anywhere is you are willing to live. And this country just makes it easier to do it.

• From: Asm [asm@deformed.us]
• Subject: Stile Sux: The Comic

Just wondering if you're really in a wheelchair or not. I am, and I kind of thought it fitted with the spending a lot of time developing rewarding online projects, as well as the sense of humour, but a friend said 'he's just making fun of wheelies, typical stile'. So is it real or taking the piss? Anyway, great sites.

Of course I'm really in a wheelchair. I don't take kindly to people making fun of the disabled. It's fucking mean spirited and wrong. I was in a horrible butter churning accident on the eve of my nineth birthday. My legs got caught in the churn as I was trying to pump some butter into a smooth whipped delight that I love so much, and I didn't realize until the last moment that I was actually churning my own frail stick-like legs into butter.

• From: Preston [bonchbonch@hotmail.com]
• Subject: Reader Mail

Dear Stile,

I'm writing this from work. It is my last week here. I can barely think straight anymore, and I have grown so accustomed to the numbness that any slight sensation of emotion is overwhelming. I write this simply because I can. I have to express it and get it out.

It all started back in May. I had just finished college and landed a job interview because my dad knew a co-worker whose wife needed a replacement for an employee who was leaving. I got the job. It was data entry and background checks for a very small company. I hated it and wanted to leave the first week. Despite my reservations, I ended up staying for the rest of the year. I was moved up to website work and tech support. The job became more interesting and yet more demanding. However, I stopped complaining because the pay was good for me.

When I began there, the company was nothing but two guys and four women. One guy was leaving and the other guy, co-owner, was gone most of the time, so it was interesting to be the only guy surrounded by older women aged 30. This group was a bunch of partiers. I was even offered alcohol a few times, despite my being a year under the legal age. I much appreciated the loose atmosphere because, in all honesty, I feared the rigid real world and its phony professionalism. Here, I could behave as myself and be left alone.

As time progressed, I eventually reimplemented their entire network, set up a network faxing system, redesigned their entire website, and more. I worked horrendous overtime and skipped lunch hours. Many Saturday nights were spent up at the office. I even helped them finish moving from their previous office by driving a moving truck out of town, loading it with furniture, and driving all the way back to unload it all at three in the morning, even when I had to work later that day. I never got a raise or bonus for any of it. I was disappointed, but I took heart in the fact that my salary would likely increase once the company moved out of state. Apparently, the whole company was setting up shop in Houston, and I was offered a chance to go along. Because I didn't know how my life plans would pan out at that moment, I was purposely indecisive and told them I would know at the end of the year, and they were fine with that.

About the time I was told of the company move, I was beginning to feel attracted to one of my co-workers. She was 30, married with two small children, and had a life of her own away from me. If you could meet her, you would instantly know why I fell for this woman. How rare it is that one randomly comes across the person that you literally want to be with every moment. Her voice, her face, her mannerisms--everything about her attracted me. As we worked together more and more, I began to care for this person. It was a true mental and physical attraction. For someone as cold and aloof as me, I wanted to feel her warmth constantly, addicted to her.

She said she needed a running buddy, so we began to go running together in October and became closer as friends. I told her things I have never told anyone. I would invent reasons to go into her office just to see her again. I would chat with her during the day on my computer. It was never outright, but I sensed something from her end...she still viewed me as a friend, but there was something there. I could never place it. She seemed unhappy. Certain things she would say, and the way she said them. Her eyes.

Unfortunately, the stresses of life began to get to me. Due to issues of my own, I was unable to continue coping with my life. I knew I had nothing to complain about, but I still felt very bad and guilty for feeling depressed. For months, I had been throwing up in the mornings for no known reason. I thought through many theories, such as lactose intolerance, ulcers, and so forth. In the end, I chalked it up to the enormous stress of the job. However, more and more, it was becoming difficult for me to connect with people. It was as though I was thinking differently than everyone else. For instance, natural conversation felt forced and awkward. My timing seemed to feel "off." I had a lack of energy I had never felt before. Everyone gets depressed, and it always comes and goes, but one week in November was particularly bad. So bad, in fact, that I planned to die that Friday.

Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking. I remember my mindset, but I can't understand it. I could not sleep that week. Every day, my body felt strangely sluggish, and it was hard to concentrate on what people were saying. Something was definitely wrong that week, and I have never been able to place a finger on it. It felt as though a switch had been turned off. I even wrote a suicide note explaining my reasoning. When you are thinking of someone who is suicidal, it is easy to dismiss them as cowardly and selfish. But when you are in that state of mind, it doesn't matter to you because your suffering is so great. Critics of suicide be damned.

I told her earlier in the week that I was leaving my job. She begged for me to stay. She even said "if you care one iota for me, you'll stay." Look back, that hurts. And yet, I pressed on. Friday came. I told my boss I was leaving my job, "to try something new." She said she understood. She was almost too unsurprised.

I went home that day looking for sleeping pills. I did not want a gun. I wanted to spare my discoverer the horror of such a gory scene. Sleeping to death seemed so natural and peaceful. My parents were away that weekend. I got home and saw my little brother. And the switch was turned back on. I thought of how his life would be after that night. The effects of my suicide on others never bothered me before, but at that moment, they suddenly did. For the second time in my life, I almost committed suicide but didn't in the last minute.

I wanted to run screaming back to the office to tell my boss that I could stay after all. Suddenly, I realized I had no future if I didn't go with the company. I live in a small town with no future, and I had big dreams. Houston, I realized, was the opportunity of a lifetime for me to leave my station in life and finally find something greater. That next week, I told her I could stay. And came to find out that when I couldn't commit, they had asked one of the temps to come along.

That night, I drove around, crying. I had turned away my own future. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt me that I had done it myself. It's so easy to feel self-pity when something happens to you out of your control, but the amount of hatred I had for myself was indescribable. I had effectively killed myself already. That was the darkest Thanksgiving of my life.

The next week, no amount of convincing seemed to work. My boss kept blaming it on the other co-owner. He was the one who didn't see a need for another employee. She said she would "talk about things" with him the following week. I began to suspect she didn't want me coming along after all, and my two week notice was a convenient out for her. Something about how she behaved around me gave me the impression I annoyed her. My fears were compounded by the fact that I absolutely knew they needed me over there and were not hiring a replacement. Nobody there could do my job. I was experiencing a flood of anxiousness that kept me awake more nights.

Suddenly, I decided--I would tell my co-worker that I loved her. And suddenly, everything was okay. I felt I would at least be able to live with myself if I let her know that. I anxiously looked at her calendar and realized I only had one week left with her. After that, she was leaving town to attend database classes and would be in Houston shortly after.

I knew I was crazy. She's 30 and married. But I had to do it. I had nothing to lose, and that sort of fear and desperation can instill a lot of courage. And so I told her. And she was understanding and even somewhat receptive.

That was last week. It was the most intense week of my life. We talked, and she revealed many things to me. The unhappiness she was having with her marriage. The despair she was feeling about not wanting to move but being in a situation in which she had to. She cried everyday. It made me glad to know that I had comforted her during those times. I even began to call her at home, just to talk. I asked her about us, and about what chance I had. She said she did not know. She had to move to Houston as a last resort to make the marriage work. And yet she knew it wouldn't work, though she wouldn't admit it. She said she was married to the "wrong person." But her very young children needed their father. The fact that she was 10 years older to me didn't matter. She was someone I cared for and wanted to make happy again. This person was the one; I could feel it. I had gone into Monday treating it as a conclusion. But it had become a beginning. There was potential I will never be able to explore.

Last Tuesday was the day the two bosses were supposed to discuss my leaving with them. I have heard nothing back, so I must assume nothing has changed. I also have to admit I had gotten my hopes up. But those hopes were crushed again. She is gone this week. I will only see her for an hour next Monday, and then she will leave my life forever. I have no job, and no future. Imagine being offered both. Imagine meeting the person who made you feel whole and who was the one you wanted to experience the rest of life with. Whose voice alone was enough to soothe you, and whose face you desperately wanted to touch. I know now I have lost that forever. I will instead be trapped in this small town, working a dead-end job, hungry for the rest of the world, and I will always feel her. I will never see it or feel that love again. I will never be able to hold her. And I cry for that.

I guess the moral of the story is to never turn anything away.

- bonch
stay animated

• From: BlueCid@aol.com
• Subject: happy fuckin holidays

ive been coming to your site for a few years now. i enjoy the porn and your insights. but one thing that really struck me was when you said it seemed like everyone you knew was either getting married or fucking someone. i know exactly how you feel. im 24 and it seems all around me people are getting sex but me. most of my friends have stable girlfriends or are getting married. i work with a girl i really liked and she dumped me recently and is now dating someone else. the thought of him fucking her pisses me off. i had a date recently with a really cool chic and i hope it works out but knowing my lame luck it wont.

anyway, the point is it feels good to see someone else suffer along with me. it sucks to look around and see other people happy and having relationships but you cant. it sucks to wake up in the morning and wondering whats so damn wrong with yourself and it sucks when you dont get an answer.

keep fighting the good fight,

another soon-to-be-shut-in

As I sit here fermenting in my own stink, chewing on some stale Pringles and contemplating the meaning of life, I realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I'm perfectly normal. It's everyone ELSE that has the fucking problem.

• From: Sean [sean.gunn@american.edu]
• Subject: The Holiday Rape.

I am in complete agreement about your views on the the state of society today. All the passion has been sucked out of our lives and so we spend our days jacking off or shopping in the mall. Nobody lives in the moment anymore. If someone sees a beautiful sunset, their first thought will be: "man, I wish I had my camera with me to take a picture!" - fuck that, stop trying to capture the moment and begin to actually live in it. Moments can never be captured. Our ancestors worked, dirt poor, in order to give their kids a better life with more opportunities. Our grandparents did the same for their children, and our parents did the same for us. Now we are at a stopping point, life is about as easy as it can get, so we now can no longer dedicate our lives to securing a better future for our children. So we have nothing left to do, no motivation, no real care. American lives are so perfect that we have to start inventing problems like eating disorders, depression and marital communications problems. It's all complete bullshit. That is why, like you said, most families seem fucked up nowadays.

We are all so bored that we start to create family problems, get divorces, disown children etc. Then the fucking holidays come and the pressure is on to have a magical, beautiful, fun, happy day. One day in december is supposed to bring a heavenly state to our shitty world. The day can never live up to our expectations and so we get even more pissed off. We bitch and complain for attention because we are not secure enough with ourselves to live in solitude. People need to learn how to live in suffering, they need to crawl in bed and fucking cry for days and stop trying to be happy because it is not going to happen. Thanks for the words stile, there is truth to all you say.

• From: D.
• Subject: parasite

I work at a big research company, and we have millions of dollars of scientific equipment to use at our pleasure. I personally am a lab technician for the Scanning Electron Microscope, one of the most powerful microscopes in the world. It'll zoom in on whatever you want up to 300,000 times. Anyways, I was reading the other day in a scientific journal that we all have hundreds of little critters running to and fro on our eyelashes all the time. They eat the sleep that forms in your eye overnight. I found this quite disgusting, and hard to believe. Then I realized that I could just rip out one of my eyelashes, put it in the SEM, and see if this article was valid.

I did just that, and to my suprise, we DO have hundreds of little bugs running to and from on our eyelashes. One of the cool things about the SEM
is that you can shoot whatever you are looking at with a bolt of electricity. I found some bugs and started frying them. It was like playing some sci-fi video game. Then, I just wanted to hurt one and see what it would do, so I turned the voltage down enough where it wouldn't kill it. I zapped one, and he started to BURROW into the eyelash to get away from the charge. I could see his body in the eyelash after he dug his way in. I thought this was too cool, so I snapped a picture of it. It's included in this email. The picture was taken at 4,170 times magnification. The bug is oriented so that it's head is at the top (you can see the antennae) and butt/abdomen at the bottom of the picture.

Next time you pull the sleep out of your eyes in the morning, remember this - you are starving colonies of thriving parasites. Be kind, leave the sleep in.

Click here for the image. Very fucking cool!

• From: GOBUDDY@aol.com
• Subject: your site

cool site, but it would be nice if you had some stuff for bi dudes too....we like to see more cock in the pics. cum shots would be nice

You're absolutely right! How insensitive of me!